Brothers
by Strapakai
Summary: Stephen Douglas had no idea he had been adopted, and even less who his biological parents were.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Stephen is mine, the rest is the property of J.K Rowlings. I just borrowed them for a while.

Part 1

"NYPD, Special Investigations, Stephen Douglas speaking."

"Steve? It's Sheriff Mackenzie."

"Sheriff?"

"Yes, Son. I won't beat around the bush. I got sad news. Your parents were killed a few hours ago in a car crash. We've been having freezing rain all week. They were coming back from a church function, your Dad lost control of his truck. It flipped into a ditch and hit a tree. As far as we can tell, they were both killed on impact."

"Oh." Was all Stephen could think to say. He had not been close to his parents, and had not spoken to them since Christmas.

"I am really sorry, Son."

"Its okay….I'm I'm okay." Stephen took a deep breath. "I'll be up there as soon as I can."

"Stop by the station, I'll have someone go with you."

"Okay. Thank you for calling me."

"Just doing my sad duty, Son. I am truly sorry about your parents. They were good folks." With that, he hung up.

Stephen listened to the hung line for several seconds before he hung up his phone. His mind was blank. As a fellow police officer, he had himself delivered similar unpleasant news too often. However, he had never thought he would receive it himself. Furthermore, he had not believed that the death of his parents would hit him so hard. Their relationship had been strained since his early teens.

The officer passed his hand through his short permanently greasy hair, and started to go through a mental list of what he had to do, starting with requesting time off.

Two days later, Stephen was sitting at the kitchen table in his parent's house. It was pilled with all sorts of papers. A grey filling cabinet was sitting by the table, drawers ajar. He was searching for a few things. The first was a will from either parent. Secondly, he was looking far any insurance information on them and the house. Thirdly, he kept a list of people he should contact about the funeral. Finally, he was looking for anything that would indicate if they had any funeral arrangements. He was putting off calling the local funeral parlour just a bit longer.

In the last drawer of the cabinet, Stephen found a locked grey metal box. A wave of his wand and an unlocking spell had it open in seconds. He carefully pulled out the brown and white envelopes. The top one had the address of a local law firm, which contained the deed to the land and house, along with a will. However, what caught his attention was the letter on the bottom with a British address.

He opened the envelope and discovered a birth certificate.

Child name's: Stephen John

Mother's name: Lily Evans Mother's date of birth: 1960,January,30

Father's name: undisclosed

Birthday: 1977, August, 26

Place of birth: St James Memorial hospital, London, England

It was his birth certificate!

Stephen always thought he was the biological child of Martha and David Douglas. He knew that his mother had been in her forties when she had 'had' him. Or at least he had thought! He had come from a small family. He had only known his paternal grand-mother, who had died when he was twelve. His father had been an only child, and his mother had never spoken of her family.

The next document was adoption papers listing his parents as the adopting parents. Stephen looked through the box for more information but there was nothing else. He let out a breath he had not realised that he had been holding and ran his hands through his hair. He rubbed his greasy fingers together; he hated his hair and had always wondered where it came from. Now he knew it had not been from his parents, Martha or David. He decided to clear his mind by taking a shower to wash his hair for the second time that day. For the umpteenth time he thought about investing into Head and Shoulder stocks.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Stephen is mine, the rest is the property of J.K Rowlings. I just borrowed them for a while.

Part 2

Two weeks later, Stephen's parents had been wake and buried. The will was in layers' hands. He had requested a month's leave. He had a name and a number of the next of kin for Lily Evans, one Petunia Dursley. He was not quite sure what he was going to do once the plane he was on landed in London.

He had gone through his muggle contacts to get the information. He did not believe that a wizarding family would have had him adopted out to a muggle family. Especially one with a fear of anything that was not 'normal'. Therefore, he assumed he had been born to people who had no idea of his magical potential.

After landing in England, Stephen got a room in an inn. He spent the night lying in bed, looking at the ceiling trying to decide how he was going to go about meeting his aunt. At some point, he fell asleep. He woke to find the sun high in the sky. Stephen dressed in jeans and a wool sweater. It was a little warmer this side of the Atlantic, but the February air was damp.

Over porridge, in the inn's dinning room, Stephen decided just to head out to 9 Privet dr and knock on the door. If he thought about it too much, he would probably loose his resolve.

A few hours later, Stephen was walking up a street of identical houses. The cab had dropped him off a street away. There was not a sound. Only a few driveways had cars. The uniformity of the place made it feel eerie to Stephen. It reminded him of videos of the Cold War to educate people about what happened when bombs or gas was dumped on towns. His imagination could easily add the grittiness of the old Technicolor film.

He walked up to the front door and knocked. The woman that answered could have easily fit into the Technicolor movie that Stephen's mind had conjured, down the white apron over the pokadot dress she was wearing.

"I don't want to buy anything," she promptly said closing the door.

"I am not a salesman," Stephen answered, holding the door open. His American accent caused her to pause. "Are you Petunia Dursley?"

"Yes?" the woman answers leery.

"My name is Stephen Douglas. I recently discovered that I was adopted."

Petunia took a closer look at the man standing before her. She had never seen him before, but she had seen those green eyes. Her level of nervousness suddenly increased. She opened the door further, looked up and down the street. When she saw that there was no one else in the street, and no one was looking out the windows, she ushered him in.

"Come in. Come in," she urged him in a voice just loud enough no to carry beyond them.

Once inside, she guided Stephen through the hall and into the kitchen. "Sit," she told him indicating a chair at the table. Stephen did so. He could feel the nervousness emanating from the woman. "I'll be right back." She went into the hall and closed the kitchen door.

After a moment, Stephen could hear her voice but it was too low to make out the words. He assumed she was speaking on the phone to someone. She came back a few minutes later. Her mannerism struck Stephen as being so like his adoptive mother's. She was clearly afraid of him, or what he was. It went beyond him being a stranger in her house. Like his adoptive parents, she was afraid of his magic. How she knew he was a wizard, he did not know. Yet he was certain of what his instincts was telling him.

She did not say anything to him when she returned to the kitchen. Instead, she polished the counter with a dishcloth. Stephen simply watched her. As a cop, he was very good at reading people's body language. She was waiting for someone.

About five minutes later, Stephen heard noise coming from the living-room.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Stephen is mine, the rest is the property of J.K Rowlings. I just borrowed them for a while.

Part 3

Harry Potter had received a weird phone call from his aunt. It had been short only stating that there was someone at her house looking for him. She had added to come quick before his uncle came home from the country club.

He had debated if he should just to apperate into his aunt's house, but had decided to use the flue network. His uncle had kept the fireplace clear of any debris. He did not like the idea of people coming through his fireplace. However, having his living-room destroyed because wizards where trying to get through a blocked one appealed to him even less.

"Aunt Petunia," Harry called out as walked down the hall towards the kitchen. He tried hard to ignore the small door that had once led to his bedroom, but he could not help but glance at it as he passed.

The door to the kitchen opened and without greeting Petunia asked: "Is he one of yours?"

Harry felt like antagonising his aunt, but did not. He simply walked into the kitchen to see who she was pointing at.

The man sitting at the kitchen table turned to look at him. The first thing that Harry noticed was the eyes that were identical to his. Then the rest of the features registered; the greasy black hair, the long narrow face and severe nose. There was no denying this man's parentage; he wore it on his face.

Harry nodded a greeting to the man and turned to his aunt.

"The faster you tell us every thing, Aunt Petunia, the faster we will be out of here."

"When your mother was 16, she came back from that school of yours," she made the word 'school' sound dirty. "I discovered that she was pregnant. I immediately told Mom and Dad. She was grounded for the summer, not that it mattered much. The only thing she did all summer was read her 'books'. As far as I know she did not tell anyone that she was pregnant. At the end of August, a couple from America came and got her. A week later, we picked her up from the hospital in time to put her back on the train to that school of yours. I don't know anything else. Well, other that she did tell me that it was not by your father. We never spoke of it again."

"Thank you, Aunt Petunia." Harry turned to the stranger and beckoned him with his hand and a smile. "Come friend. We'll go somewhere else to talk." He held the door open and directed Stephen to the livingroom.

Petunia followed them. Once in the livingroom she said: "Just one minute. I have something for you Harry." She disappeared.

Harry watched her go up the stairs and turned back to the stranger. He held out his hand: "Harry Potter."

"The Harry Potter!"

"Yes." Harry answered, he had gotten use a long time ago to how people reacted to him.

"Wow!" Then remembering his manners, Stephen took the offered hand and shook it. "Stephen Douglas."

"Have you traveled by flue powder before?" Harry asked.

"A few times," Stephen answered.

They did not have time to say anything else before Petunia came back. She held a diary out to Harry. "This belonged to your mother. There is not much written in it, but she probably did something to it."

Harry took the book with reverence. "Thank you." They heard a car pulling up, and Petunia tensed. "Good bye, Aunt Petunia." Before they heard the car door close, Harry and Stephen had left.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Stephen is mine, the rest is the property of J.K Rowlings. I just borrowed them for a while.

Part 4

They came out of a fireplace in Harry's office. Very few offices of the Ministry of Magic had their own hearths, but being at the head of the Auror's department had its own perks.

"God! That was like stepping back into my parents' house while they were still alive!"

Harry walked around his desk. On his way, he casually picked up a picture frame and placed it in a drawer. Stephen noticed the gesture. He looked around at the office. It felt personal, yet there was no sign of any family or friends. All the pictures appeared to have come from news papers. Most had the article around them.

"My aunt does not care for our kind much."

"How do you know I am a wizard," Stephen asked.

Harry took off his glasses and showed them to the other man.

"They are enchanted to see magical items. In the muggle world it is really handy. Here, it gives me a head ache." He replaced the glasses with another pair. "I can see that the pen in your pocket is actually a wand. Good illusion."

"Thank you."

"Take a seat. Tell me who you are." Harry said as he settled into his chair.

"I am from the States. Up until a few weeks ago, I thought I was born in Maine to Martha and David Douglas, in 77. I found this a few weeks ago." He held out the adoption certificate, which Harry took. "I did not think I was born of wizarding parents, that is why I went through muggle connections."

Harry chuckled. "It would be like them to do this." He said. "Lily Evans was my mother. She was muggle born. However, I am told she was a really good witch. Her parents and sister, aunt Petunia, feared her magical powers. They preferred to ignore anything magical. I see why they would have arranged to place you with a muggle family. They probably hoped that you would not be a wizard. However, given your heritage, there was little chance of that."

"You know who my father is? How?"

Harry indicated his face, by passing a hand over it. "I do. His name was Severus Snape. He died in the battle that defeated Voldermort."

Despite coming from across the ocean, and twenty years later, Stephen flinched a little at hearing the spoken name of He Who Should not be Named.

"He was my potions master at Hogwarts, the Wizarding school I went to. He was a very brave man. He gave his life so we could win." After a moment of silence Harry kept on: "He loved our mother very much, so much that even if she married someone else, he tried to save her from Voldermort. After she was killed, he dedicated his life to bringing the Dark Lord down from the inside."

"Here I thought I was muggle born." Stephen laughed. "I know of you and the war. Even in America, we followed the situation quite closely, in case it would spill over the ocean. I was only a rooky back then."

"A rooky?"

"A new cop…Police officer. I work for the New York Police Department. At the beginning, I thought that getting a muggle job would help with my relationship with my parents." He shrugged. "It helped a little but not much. Not that my job deals much with the muggle world. I am part of the department of special investigation."

"Sounds like we have similar jobs."

Both men sat back in silence for a long time, contemplating all the new information they had just learned.

"So, they are all dead." Stephen finally said, more to himself. He shook himself. "Honestly, I don't know what I expected when I decided to come."

"It is not quite what you expected?"

"Not the Wizarding part. I did not expect to almost be a pure blood. Do you have pictures of them?"

Harry nodded. With a flick of his hand a book came off a shelf towards them and landed on the desk. It was a copy of the 'Updated History of Hogwarts'. He opened it up and turned to the page showing a group picture of all the professors of his first year. Harry turned to book to his brother. He did not even have to point out the potions' professor.

"Wow! We do look alike! Now I understand why you knew who my father was right away."

Harry opened the drawer and pulled out an old picture that had been ripped in two. He handed it to Stephen. On it there was a woman in her early twenties. She was smiling, but kept looking beside her as if searching for someone.

"I see where we got our eyes from. She was pretty. Do you have any memories of her?"

The younger man shook his head. "None that are my own. I was just a toddler when they were killed."

Stephen flipped through the 'Updated History of Hogwarts'. "Was it a good school?"

Harry nodded. "Yes. For the most part, I enjoyed my self." He pointed to the picture of the quitich team. "Did you play quitich?"

"Nah! I hate the broom. I barely managed to pass the 'Introduction to Broom Sticks'. The professors agreed that it was safer if I did not take the more advance courses. It does not help that I don't really care for heights."

"I was told that Mom did not like the broom either. Do you follow the game much?"

"Some. I was at the world game back in…" Stephen was interrupted when there was a knock on Harry's door and it was opened without waiting far a response."

"Harry, Hermione and I are going to get some lunch. Do you want to…" Ron stopped abruptly when he saw the man sitting in front of Harry's desk. He stared back and forth between Harry and Stephen. He opened his mouth then closed it.

"Ron, this is Stephen Douglas. My Brother."

"Your Mother cheated on your Dad with Snape?" Ron blurted out.

"No." Harry said very patiently. "It happened before they were together. Stephen, forgive my friend's manners. This is Ron Weasly, usually my mate and assistant."

Stephen held out his hand to Ron, in greeting. The other man took it and shook it energetically. "I'm sorry. I didn't know Harry had a brother."

"That is okay. I did not know I had one until this morning."

"Ron, you were talking about lunch?" Harry said

A/N The rest of the story will be slower to come. I don't really know where to go from here. I am not ready to have Harry take Stephen home to meet his family. In addition, I don't have much time to write. Some day, this story might have an end.


	5. Chapter 5

Merry Christmas Taylor.

"Ron, you were talking about lunch?" Harry said.

"Yes. Yes. Mione and I are going to the Silver Cauldron." Ron said, still staring at Stephen.

"Stephen, would you like something to eat?" Harry asked.

"I'd love to get some grub. Do they make decent Joe?"

"Joe?" Ron asked.

"Coffee."

"Humm, I don't know. They have three flavours of pumpkin juice."

Stephen shuddered.

"Not a fan of pumpkin juice?" Harry asked.

The older man shook his head. "My mother," he paused a second. "Adoptive mother use to make the worse pumpkin pie ever. Just the smell turned my heart. But dad loved it, so she kept on making it, every Sunday. I've never been able to touch anything that has pumpkin in it."

"Then I got to take you to my Mom. She makes the best pumpkin pie in the world."

Seeing his brother getting uncomfortable, Harry reminded his friend: "Ron, is Hermione waiting for us?"

Ron slapped his forehead: "She'll be really mad at me now!" He disappeared with a clap of thunder.

"He's a good whipped husband," Harry explained holding out his hand to Stephen. "I'll take you to the Cauldron."

They apperated on the front steps of the pub. Stephen looked up and down the street, thinking to himself that every wizard village had the same feel. He could see a shop selling robes, beside it was a wand merchant. On the other side, there was a bookstore with a sign in the window announcing it had the latest edition of "Arcane Spells for the Modern Wizard". Men and woman walked up and down the street. Many wore elaborate hats and long almost raggedy overcoats. Others were dressed as he was, in muggle clothing. He could have been in Salem.

Stephen followed his new found brother. Inside, the pub appeared to be poorly light, but at the same time, they could clearly see into every corner. A short fat woman came to meet them. She was wearing a full pure white apron that went almost to the floor. Under it, she had a light blue blouse and dark blue iridescent skirt. "Mister Potter, your usual table is ready. Who do you have with you?"

"This is Stephen. He is visiting from the United States."

"I see, I see. Welcome to Brittan. I will get you a menu." She turned and disappeared through a wall.

"This way," Harry said, leading his brother to the back of the room.

Stephen felt all eyes on him. When he looked directly at people, no one was looking at him. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the other patrons whispering to each other. Coming from a small town, he was used to the 'stranger in our midst' mentality. It did not change that he did not really like the experience.

"It's not you," Harry whispered to Stephen, over his shoulder. "I have a private table at the back, out of sight."

Harry's table was through a side door, into a small room. There were no windows, but a fireplace filled one wall, and in the middle, sat a long table that could sit twelve. It was covered with a snow white table cloth, a gold candle-holder held seven lit candles. They cast as much light as any incandescent bulb, without the harshness. The flames appeared to be little ballerinas twirling around to soft music emanated from the candles.

Two people, in deep discussion, were sitting at the head of the table. The woman stood, as soon as she heard the door open.

"Harry!" She exclaimed, "Ron has been telling me…" She fell silent when she saw the stranger. "Oh Merlin! You were right, Ron!" She exclaimed. "I'm sorry. Where are my manners? My name is Hermione Weasly." She extended her hand.

Stephen shook it. "Stephen Douglas." He said.

Harry pulled a chair out for his brother and everyone sat down.

Hermione took control of the situation and had Stephen recounting his story in no time. As the woman asked questions, and he answered. The American had to admit that she was a very good interrogator. He found himself answering questions without realising it. He finished his account by saying: "I don't know what I expected to find. I hadn't given it much thought. I just went with it. I can tell you that I didn't expect to be from a Wizard family. A famous one to boot!"

Ron had listened to the interrogation in silence. He knew better than to interrupt his spouse. When she ran out of things to ask, he said: "How about we take him to Hogwarts? He could speak to Professor Snape's portrait." Ron said.

Harry sighed. "I don't really want to deal with the crowd."

Despite all the years, Harry was not comfortable with the fame that had come from the War. The idolatry his old school held made it even worse. It felt a bit like a betrayal to all the people who had lost their lives and lay almost forgotten. In addition, he was ready to present Stephen to his children.

"We can flue in," Hermione said. "We can go directly into the Head Master's office. There probably will not be any one there, since McGonagall is off to Beau Baton for the month. We'll be able to get in and out without anyone knowing."

"Just like the old days!" Ron quipped. "We could even bring the cloak"

Hermione groaned and punched Ron in the arm. "I don't think we would all fit under the cloak."

"The Cloak?" Stephen asked.

Harry nodded and Ron set into recounting one of their adventures with the cloak as they ate.

Harry was the first to tumble out of the hearth in Head Master McGonagall's office. He straightened up, dusted off his robes and stepped out of the way. The portraits on the walls immediately started to chatter: "It's Harry Potter! It's Harry Potter." Some moved from one portrait to another to get a better look.

Harry looked up and them and told them with authority: "I don't want it known outside of this office that we are here."

"Hello Mr. Potter!" Professor Dumbledor greeted from his portrait.

"Well well Mr. Potter, still up to your old habits." Snape said looking up from a book on arcane spells he had in his hands.

He was not finish his sentence, that Ron tumbled out in a plume of soot, coughing.

"Big surprise, there is Mr. Weasly. Is Miss Granger coming too?" On cue, Hermione came out with more grace than her husband.

"It's Mrs. Weasly," Ron said between two coughs. "I think I hit an ash mouse coming in."

"We have had some problems with those," Dumbledor said. "We need to get smoke cats to deal with them. But they keep taking off after the birds, out the chimney they go." He lifted his hand up like of the cats escaping.

The trio moved out of the way of the hearth. "What brings you here?" The former headmaster asked, stroking his beard and grinning at his young friends.

Stephen tumbled out of the fireplace, in a cloud of smoke as spectacular as the one Ron had risen. He was coughing. "There was something in the chimney!" He said.

"Ash mice," Ron explained.

"We are actually here to see Professor Snape." Harry said.

The dark hair professor looked up from his book, at the mention of his name. Stephen moved closer to the portrait to get a better look at the man who had been his biological father.

Snape's jaw dropped. He got weak in the knees and collapse into his chair. But, he recovered quickly, getting back up to come as close as he could. He extended a shaking hand towards Stephen. "Lilly? How?" He whispered.

"We'll Professor, you should know about the birds and the bees!" Ron piped up.

"Shut up Ron!" Hermonie and Harry said as one.

"I was born in August of 1976." Stephen said to his father. "I was adopted by a muggle family, and taken to the States a few days after my birth. I did not know about any of this until a few weeks ago."

Snape nodded his head slowly, as if it helped pieces of memory fall into place.

"I always wondered why she turned away from me." He looked up at Harry, "and to your father. But now I think I understand. I wish I had known."

Everyone felt the awkwardness in the room.

"Let's give them some privacy," Harry said.

"Yes, yes,' said Dumbledor, "meet me in my anti-chamber."

Harry escorted his two friends into an adjoining room. The subjects of the portraits on the wall also left.

Stephen looked over his shoulder until the door clicked shut. He turned his gaze back to his father. They stared at each other for longs moments, not sure what to say.

"Tell me about..." They both started at almost the same time. They stopped, laughed a little, and then fell back into the awkward silence.

Stephen had always been good at interrogating people. It was part of what made him good at his job, but here, he had no idea what to say or ask. Snape appeared to be having the same problem. The younger man cleared his throat and said: "Tell me about my mother. What was she like?"

"The Lilly I knew, and the one the rest of the world knew, were not the same." He started, pensively. Stephen heard the love and tenderness in his voice. "She changed all of a sudden. She started to hang out with Potter and his gang. That is the current Mr. Potter's father. She became popular. It was as if she was too good to hang out with us Slitherins."He shrugged. "We met before coming here. She would play with her sister on a playground near my house…"

The end… for now.


End file.
